An Angel for Harry
by Cheelalaucha
Summary: He abandoned them. He left them all to their fate. A permanent darkness swept over their world, and all the joy is gone. He needs an angel. Told from a young girl’s POV.


_Disclaimer:_ All characters that I did not make up are owned by J.K. Rowling. Title of story and idea inspired by the movie _An Angel for May_.  
_Summary:_ He abandoned them. He left them all to their fate. A perminant darkness swept over their world, and all the joy is gone. He needs an angel. Told from a young girl's POV.  
_Rating:_ T (violence, serious injury, death)  
_Note: _Major original character (OC) usage.  
_Title:_ An Angel for Harry  
_Chapter:_ Prologue

* * *

. 

"Hurry up, Maybell! We're gonna be late!"

"I'm coming, not so fast!" Maybell panted as she narrowly missed a collision with a local police man.

She'd been running as fast as she could to get home to eat. Her piano lessons were halfway across town and lasted for nearly three hours each day. The distance gave her barely enough time to get home for supper. The problem, you see, is that this particular girl had no desire to be at home, nor, she was sure, was she even welcome. If not for her retriever dog, named Tess, she would not have a friend in the world.

As she came to the part of town with the shops, she realized that she couldn't see her sister in front of her any longer. It was her sister's job, as her mum had put it, to watch over Maybell and make sure she doesn't get into trouble with the townsfolk. As if _she_ would cause trouble. Intentionally, that is.

Maybell slowed her lightning pace and finally came to a stop right outside the blacksmith's shop. She was in the clear now, she knew. If anyone bothered to notice that she wasn't at supper, than her sister would make sure to inform their mother that she was repaying her debt in town.

You see, last summer, her mother had given her some coins to buy some corn from the market. Well, along the way, a large brown book with fancy silver writing on the cover had caught her eye in the display window of Burke's, and she just had to have it. Unfortunately, the only money she had was for the corn. She'd foolishly rushed into Burke's Books and snagged up the copy.

She'd tried to steal the corn from the market, but hadn't gotten far before she was caught. Her mother had not been happy to hear of what she'd done and had sentenced her to work for Mr. Filmie, one of the farmers who lived close by. But she didn't care. Mr. Filmie was kinder to her than her own family and would often invite her in for a snack. Besides, she'd hidden the brown book in his backyard so that her mother couldn't take it away from her. She was happy, as happy as she could be around here.

Thunder rumbled above her, and Maybell raised her head to look at the dark clouds moving toward the town from the west. She positively _hated_ storms. The rain wasn't so bad, but the lightning frightened her something terrible.

* * *

. 

"Maybell!"

She jumped as she heard her name being called from behind her. She turned around, toward the blacksmith's front door, and saw the owner of the shop waving her over. She came forward and followed the blacksmith inside without a word. She was barely three steps inside before the rain started to fall from the storm clouds.

"Maybell, why aren't you home? This storm's going to be a big one, you shouldn't be out wandering." The burly man's deep voice made her feel just a tad less scared as the thunder rumbled loudly from above.

"I was... I mean, I was..." Lying was not one of her stronger points, she knew, but she tried anyway. "I was heading home, but I... needed.. a break, I guess."

The man 'Mmmhmm'ed and pulled a chair from the corner for her to sit on. She was silent as she sat and watched through the window as the rain fell harder and harder outside. The blacksmith poked his head though the doorway in the back and yelled, "Sam! Bring some tea down, will ya? We've got company."

Maybell heard Mr. Timber's footsteps hit the floor loudly as he walked over and stood between her and the window she'd been gazing out of. Forced to be polite to the man by some some internal instinct, she raised her eyes to meet his. Mr. Timber's arms were crossed in front of his chest and he watched her with a slightly stern look marring his features.

"You can't wander around out here this late, Maybell. It's not safe."

She nodded and dropped her eyes look to the floor.

"Promise me you'll not wander after this hour again. Promise me that." He sounded ten times as angry as he looked.

She nodded her head and kept her eyes lowered, while mentally adding, "_Not in this part of town, I won't_." She wasn't going to let this man take away all her fun, now was she?

There was a crash from behind them, and Mr. Timber looked over her head at something. Maybell turned too, but all she saw was the local beggar, Sam. She'd never seen Sam in the blacksmith's shop before, he usually sat on the front steps of pub two buildings down the road, playing cards to win people's money. Foreigners who passed through the town usually got taken in by Sam's dirty appearance and torn cloths, and they often lost their money to him.

The townsfolk who live here all year 'round intentionally neglect to tell newcomers that Sam is, in fact, the most skilled card player for ten cities around. Everyone in the town, and even those who live in the fields, trust Sam for some reason or another. Maybell had never figured out why, but it must have been something big, since not even her mother spoke ill of him.

Sam carried the teapot over to the small table in the back, right corner and set it down. Maybell watched as he opened the door to a small, handmade cupboard above the table and pulled out two small plates and two cups.

* * *

. 

The rain beat down on the roof louder than ever, and there was a flash of lightening outside that made Maybell's head snap toward the window again. She sank down in her chair a little in fright.

Mr. Timber uncrossed his arms and walked over to the front door to make sure it was latched. The wind was picking up, and the windows rattled with the force of it.

Maybell whimpered quietly as she sunk down even more. Two seconds later, she jumped back up, out of her seat, as lightening flashed again, accompanied by a deafening crack of thunder that rocked the foundation of the shop and made the walls shudder threateningly.

Something behind her smashed on the wood floor. She whipped around to see Sam bending over to collect the pieces of a broken teacup. He was shaking, she noticed but wasn't surprised. Maybell herself was barely even able to stand on her own two feet, she was so scared.

For something to occupy her mind, Maybell walked over to the dirty man Sam and knelt down to help him clean up the mess. He made not a sound to protest nor give any sign of gratitude for her help. Maybell kept quiet as they gathered the broken bits and set them on the table in the corner. When all was done, both Sam and Maybell rose to their feet.

Maybell was turning to look out the window again when she caught a brief glimpse of the bright green of Sam's eyes. They sparkled with the light from the flashes outside, and were incredibly intense as they watched her for that one moment.

And just like that, they were gone. Sam turned back to the table to re-pour the tea, and Maybell returned to gazing out the window.

Mr. Timber wandered over to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "You had better stay here tonight. Your mother wouldn't want you to be out in weather like this."

Maybell snorted before she could stop herself. The hand on her shoulder squeezed and she looked guiltily up at Mr. Timber.

"Your mother loves you, Maybell. She'd be devastated if you got hurt, so don't be showing her any disrespect, you hear?"

Maybell nodded as she hung her head in feigned shame. Glancing up and out of the window, she rolled her eyes toward the stormy sky and sighed quietly. Mr. Timber removed his hand from her shoulder to pat her on the head twice.

"I'll go tell the Misses that we'll need an extra place set for supper. If someone knocks, don't open that door, you hear?" Mr. Timber waited only long enough to see her nod again, and he left through the back door.

Mention of her unfair mother made Maybell's mood even more dim than the storm had made it. Crossing her arms in an unconscious imitation of Mr. Timber, she glared at the glass of the window before her. It was already dark outside, and only the occasional flash of light showed anything beyond the blacksmith's sign that was swinging in the wind.

Her glaring was interrupted by an outstretched hand that held a cup of steaming tea. Maybell glanced up to the owner of that hand, but the man was not looking at her. She took the cup from him and mumbled a thank you. Sam did not reply, he only walked back over to the small table to pour more tea.

* * *

. 

Maybell sipped slowly, thinking of how much her mother would _not_ be missing her right about now. The old woman had once told her that the whole family would have been better off if she hadn't been born. It was one more mouth to feed, she'd said. Her father wouldn't speak a word to her. He only stared at her hatefully to help make her believe what her mother said. Maybell had the theory that she was Papa's favorite, since he only glared at _her_ and not the other children. The other _eight_ children, that is. She was the youngest by four years at the current age of ten-and-a-half.

Maybell jumped at the sound of someone hammering on the door with a fist. When Mr. Timber had mentioned someone knocking on the door, she had thought it an unnecessary thing to say. Who in their right mind would be out in this kind of weather, so late at night?

Whoever was pounding sounded more impatient as he didn't get an answer. Maybell glanced over at Sam. He wasn't looking at her, as usual, and appeared not to notice anything out of the ordinary. Maybell bit her lip and tried Sam's tact of ignoring the person at the door.

The pounding stopped abruptly, and Maybell sighed with relief. But, it seemed the stranger was not finished. In the darkness, she had been unable to see anyone or anything outside, through the window. She was, therefore, terrified out of her wits when someone slapped hard on the glass of the very window she was looking out of.

Maybell screamed in surprise and backed away quickly, dropping her teacup in the process. Strong arms came around her from behind and pulled her back even further. She thought it had been Mr. Timber until she saw him rush in through the back door.

Panicked, she squirmed and tried to free herself from the unknown arms, but they held steadfast.

She hardly noticed as Mr. Timber grabbed a stone block from the other side of the room and ran to the front door. He unlatched it and slammed the door shut hard as he left the shop. Male voices shouting could be heard from inside, and Maybell trembled in fright of both the storm and the commotion on the other side of the walls. She may have been ten years old, but she was like a frightened little kitten whenever there was shouting, and the rolling thunder only made it worse.

"Don't be scared," the man behind her, who she had come to realize as Sam, whispered into her ear. "Don't be scared," he repeated and she tried to calm herself.

"_You're making a fool of yourself_," she thought.

* * *

. 

The yelling eventually tuned down to loud conversation, not quite so hostile as before. Maybell listened as Sam held onto her tightly. She had thought that everything was quieting down, even the storm, when she heard the most terrifying sound of all.

Maybell and Sam jumped in unison as the crack of a gunshot ripped through the air. Somehow, that shot was louder than the storm to the young girl's ears

She felt the strong arms of Sam tighten around her. Maybell didn't struggle when Sam pulled her to the back door. She closed her eyes and let him lead the way to where ever they were headed.

Sam opened the door with one hand, the other still wrapped around the girl. They were met by a very shaken Mrs. Timber. The thin woman ushered them silently into the kitchen, glancing into the main room before she shut the door and latched it.

Maybell felt the arms around her slacken, and she took it as a sign that she could go. The thin woman and Maybell rushed toward each other and embraced.

"Is he..?" The woman's hoarse voice shook with emotion.

Maybell's eyes burned, and a tiny tear trickled down. "I don't know, Auntie Elaine. Maybe it wasn't him..."

Sure, perhaps it hadn't been him that was shot. After all, he was a strong man, not too easy to take down. But... wouldn't he have come in by now if he was fine? No one dared go check, not when shots were being fired, it was too dangerous.

"That's..." Sam's rough voice came from behind her. He cleared his throat. "He's your uncle?"

"Yes," Maybell whispered, unaware that her aunt had frozen at the sound of Sam actually talking. He never talked to anyone.

Sam was out of the kitchen before either of them could say another word. Mrs. Timber called for him to come back, but he didn't.

There were more tears from Maybell. "_He's the only one who cares_," she thought of her uncle, Mr. Timber. "_He wouldn't leave me alone_," she told herself. No, Mr. Timber loved her like she was his own daughter, and he couldn't die. There were no doubts. Life could not possibly be that unfair to her.

If only she knew then what she knew _now_.


End file.
